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“I can. What else?” Luc was serious now. This was starting to feel obtainable. At least somewhat.
“What about the zombie? Doesn’t he have a soul?” I was so curious about everything, but at least this was a better question.
She shook her head. “No, dear, he done lost his soul a long time ago. But to answer your lover here, you also need to pay for the services, the ritual itself. And I’m the best mambo in these parts.”
Choosing not to comment on thelovercomment, I went with a simple question. “I thought mambo’s were more altruistic?”
“Listen, if I didn’t think this was a worthy cause, you’d be out the door.” She pointed in that direction. “I know you were done wrong, and I want to help. But these things are expensive. I can’t be expected to cover all the costs. Can I?”
“No, ma’am.” Luc glanced toward the front of the house.
“So, three things. Payment for the zombie and your services. Then, payment to the spirits in the form of a sacrifice. Do I have that right?”
“Yes, boy.”
A commotion in the street had all our attention. Luc moved to the window with a fluid gate. “They found you, Austin.”
“They?” she asked.
“Shit. Sorry, I mean, can we go out the back?”
Geneviève shot me a look that would have me back in that grave if I could die from a glare. Then she hurried to the window faster than she’d moved before. “Deadman mafia? After you? What’s that about?”
“I don’t have time to explain.”
“They’re coming, Austin.” Luc headed toward the back.
“Thank you. We’ll be in touch.” I bowed again, then rushed through the house before she had a chance to give permission. Ireally hoped she wasn’t offended, though. I did not need anyone else after me.
I heard her say, “I expect you will.” Then, I sprinted down a hallway and into the back. The walls were brick on one side, the good old soft red brick most prominent throughout the city, and the other was a quaint kitchen with a yellow and white backsplash and a huge island with a butcher block top. And more importantly, a back door. I flew out of it, barely shutting it behind me.
On the other side of a simple courtyard, I climbed over a small wooden fence and into an alley that stretched into the next street. I guessed from where we were that it was St. Peter, so I blindly ran toward Bourbon. If we could get lost in the crowds there, we could get away. The sun was nearly down, and the nightly revelry would be starting.
This was getting out of control. I had no clue how we would pay for Lady Geneviève’s services or even how the hell I was gonna get the mafia off my ass. And Deadman Mafia? What the hell was that? One more thing I didn’t know. I turned up Bourbon Street. At least I felt a little more confident with so many people around, and the farther we went, the thicker the crowds.
“Woah.” Luc turned in circles, looking everywhere at once. “I don’t remember this. Oh my!” He was open-mouthed gawking at one of the gay clubs where a couple of young guys, wearing nothing but jockstraps, danced on the bar. Men reached up and stuck money in the strap or handed it to them. The boys flirted. “I never…”
“Welcome to the two thousands, my friend.” I gave him a saucy wink and dodged back into the crowd.
“I don’t remember most of this. The buildings, yes. Mainly. The architecture of the balconies, yes. But not the people. Thenoise. Oh my.” We passed the Four Points and into the main party area. “It seems bigger and smaller at once.”
“Hmm.” I looked back, noticing the head of a familiar goon a few blocks back but getting closer. “In here.” I ducked into Little Bayou. It was a cool little spot with a double bar for oysters as much as drinks. We needed to find somewhere to hide, and this wasn’t it. We’d be spotted through the big glass windows and doors all flung open wide. I breathed in deeply, taking in the scent of salt and spices as well as the peppery, fruity olives. But I needed to get out of there. Maybe we could double back and lose them.
I darted out and around the corner, down St. Louis. It was quieter, but too quiet. Luc rushed up close to me. “I can feel them coming.” Feel them? There wasn’t time to question it. And there was nowhere to hide.
Except…
Up.
I couldn’t get over the door to any of the courtyards between the buildings. In this area, they built them tall with iron bars on the top, often with configurations that appeared downright medieval but were effective in keeping out tourists or people like me. But I could shimmy up that waterspout. It was close enough to the courtyard door that I could get my foot in there to boost me higher. So I did. Then, I grabbed the latticework on the second-floor balcony. And climbed it like a ladder to the roof. Dropping down into the alley leading to the courtyard was an option, but we could also get stuck. Continuing on the roof made more sense. I worked my way back into the depths of the block.
Crossing over from one building to another, we made it all the way to Dauphine Street before I had to drop back to the ground. The hard and noisy partying of Bourbon Street was not here, and we would be easily seen. I crossed the street, spotting another alley I could get into. It had a lower wooden gate minusall the ironwork. I suspected it led to a parking area rather than a courtyard, but either way, we were going. Up and over. Not too difficult at all.Look at me showing off my parkour skills. Also…ouch. My whole damn body was still bruised and not appreciative of the vivacious activity.
We couldn’t be seen from the street, and it was deathly quiet. And I was fucking tired. I slowed to a walk, choosing to stick to the shadows just in case.
“Hey, Austin. Where are we going?”
“Don’t know,” I said between panting breaths.
